The Promise of Forever and Never Again
by Danni's Infinite Thoughts
Summary: Sherlock is suppose to be dead, leaving John to think about what could have been. Yet here he is, messing with John's mind again. Tension growing stronger between the pair, all the while Sherlock's working on a new case. What are they to do?
1. Chapter 1: From The Grave

_Something's wrong_. Sherlock thinks, plucking the smooth cords of his violin. _He's been reading that same page for the past 13minutes and 24seconds, he usually takes 9minutes, give or take a few seconds._ Instinctually, Sherlock narrows his eyes. It's these moments he hates most. He knows something is bothering the golden haired man, who so carelessly drapes himself in his arm chair, but cannot pin point its source. Sherlock is absorbed in thought that he doesn't realize he's staring.

"Yes?" John asks with a twinge of annoyance in his tone. Sherlock cocks his head to the side, in a bird like manner. John's eyebrows arch, prompting Sherlock to answer. Sherlock moves his violin on to his lap and leans forward in his chair. His piercing eyes hold John's. "You're thinking." John gives a slow nod, slightly more irritated by the half-finished answers he gets per usual. "And?" His golden eyebrows knit together by confusion. "What about?" Sherlock's strong demeanor alters by a fraction. A fraction, that John notices. "Concerned, Sherlock?" "Oh, so very deeply." Sherlock speaks in a monotone, suppressing a smirk.

"Nothing at all. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere I have to be." John springs up from his chair and quickly makes his way to the door. Sherlock frowns inwardly. _He must be seriously bothered, if it's enough to make him forget his jacket._ He stares at the old worn jacket that dangles from one of the hangers. Sherlock was unaware of the amount of pressure he was grinding his teeth with until his jaw slacked. A new determination to find out what the hell is going on in John's mind sets in. _But for now,_ Sherlock swiftly picks up his instrument and begins to play Vivaldi's "winter" concerto.

John is striding down the street, his cheeks burning. _Damn him, damn him, damn him._ He turns a corner vaguely aware of where he is plans to go or when he plans to stop. _It's not enough for him to consume my thoughts, now he needs to know that he does?_ A grunt escapes his pinched lips. It's been like this since the day Sherlock came back from the dead. John thinks back to the day that Sherlock "died" and how agonizing the last three years have been. He had taken up gambling and drinking again. He couldn't cope with the very idea that this extraordinary man, who turned his life upside, was gone. _Now that Sherlock is back,_ John shakes his head, letting the notion fade fast and unfinished.

His legs begin to ache; he looks around and finds the sun vanishing behind the city skyline. He has been out longer than expected. _What does it matter? It's not as if Sherlock will notice that I left at all._ John turns on his heels and begins his journey back to 221B. John takes a deep breath, his chest feeling heavier than he remembers. As he wanders through the thinning crowd, he begins to regroup. He will not slip up like that again.

Hello, there! This is my my FIRST Fanfiction *cue confetti*. So I hope you like it and want to read more.

I know it's kind of long and dull for now but I pomise it picks up quickly after this. ;) Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2: Tea Translation

His legs begin to ache; he looks around and finds the sun vanishing behind the city skyline. He has been out longer than expected. _What does it matter? It's not as if Sherlock will notice that I left at all._ John turns on his heels and begins his journey back to 221B. John takes a deep breath, his chest feeling heavier than he remembers. As he wanders through the thinning crowd, he begins to regroup. He will not slip up like that again.

The flat is cramped with unacknowledged feelings. Even the neighboring people can tell that there is something going on, due to the quiet that surrounds the building. The situation worsens when the anniversary of Sherlock's "death" rolls by. Even the sky reinforces this by pelting the streets with grey rain.

"Tea?" Sherlock asks over his shoulder; drying two tea glasses with the designated hand rag. In consulting detective speak, this translates to; "I'm sorry." However, in response, John flips the page of his paper and continues as though no one spoke. This marks a clear soundless rejection. Sherlock begins to press his teeth on his jaw again. "Fine then." He growls lowly, slamming the extra cup onto the counter, a large clank echoes through the kitchen into the empty air.

Bubbles begin to form in his chest; he knows he's going say something but John can no longer contain himself. "Why did you do it?" John mutters, fully aware that Sherlock's acute hear will pick up on it. "Do. What?" Sherlock hisses. John sighs, casually tilts the paper back to peer over the crisp edge. He notes the way Sherlock simply stands in the arch, a gripping gaze set on John. "Why did you come back?" Instantly, John regrets his words.

Sherlock falters momentarily but quickly recovers. It wounded him more deeply than John can possibly comprehend. "Because," Sherlock pauses. **_Where am I going with this?_** "Ugh, you should know by now John." This was all he could come up with in 21seconds. John's brows arched warily; he had given up weeks ago on the idea that Sherlock may come around. "I **_should_** but** _don't_**. Sherlock, do elaborate." John sets the journals down on the side table near him and leans back in the cushions of his arm chair. "John," Sherlock groaned, leaning his weight against the wall. John doesn't budge. Of course not, some of Sherlock's stubbornness rubbed off on the blonde. "Because, John. I missed you."

It was silent in the moment after.** _No, he couldn't. Could He?_** John's mind stretching in different directions, feeling his heart beat in the palms of his hands. "Sherlock?" John's voice shakes slightly. Sherlock repeatedly raking his hand through his matted black locks and he was pacing between the two rooms. "John, don't. Let me finish."

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Chapter dos! Hope you liked it! Love ya, cupcakes!

~~~~ Mustache out!


	3. Chapter 3: All about Timing

John immediately shuts his mouth. The only sound comes from the down pour of rain that pounded against the window. It feels like a half hour has passed since either of them spoke, Sherlock glances at the clock; the minute hand hasn't even budged. "I missed you," Sherlock reiterates. John wants to jump into Sherlock's arms and admit everything; he restrains himself and firmly grips the arms on his chair to maintain.

"Three years and you weren't the only one in agony." A thin veil of gloom hovered over his hardened expression. "It gave me time to think. It gave me a chance to be alone," John grimaces. _**So, Sherlock was fine without me**._ His fluttering heart began to sink; this wasn't what he was hoping. But what did he expect? For Sherlock to jump up and openly say that he loved John without so much as a hesitation or doubt? This is Sherlock for Crist's sake. Even if he did have _that_ feeling, only Sherlock alone would know about the hair-line fracture in his robotic nature. "And often I thought about you."

John's world froze in this moment. _Often I thought about you_. He repeated in mind, struggling to keep the muscles in his lips from pulling back into a smile. **_Oh, come on man! You were in the military! You should be able to keep your bearing!_** He cleared his throat. He waited a few seconds for Sherlock to continue but instead Sherlock gawking at the closed door to the outer hall. "Okay, what are you getting at Holmes?" Sherlock turned, half surprised that John was still paying attention and half annoyed by John's lack of understanding. "Bloody hell, Watson, I-"

A rapid knock on the door interrupted him. Sherlock eyes the door and then more tapping against the wood. Finally, Sherlock strides to the entrance with an inhuman elegance. **_No, no, no!_** John screams within the confines of his head. Just his luck that in the midst of a break through, someone would ruin it. A loud groan escapes the cavity of Sherlock's chest as he dramatically stumbles backward from the entryway. "What could you possibly want, Mycroft?!" He snaps. Mycroft steps into the dimly lit room to stands parallel from the angelic man known as Sherlock.

"You haven't been to work in two days, have you John?" John's face contorts with confusion. He got all that from looking at _Sherlock_? That is true, John hasn't been to work; he felt depressed. "How did you-?" John's shortly cut off by Mycroft. "He looks well rested, cleanly shaven and like he's eaten. He has no gun residue on his hand; he hasn't toyed with his gun lately. Now why would he, of all people, behave like this without being told?" Mycroft's thick brows rise. He's right. Sherlock has been ordered to do all these things.

"Again, what do you want?" Sherlock snarls, narrowing his eyes to thin slits. Mycroft shifts slightly to lean his weight on his umbrella. "I have a job for you, Sherly."

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Apologies! For those who had to read the sae thing twice. My bad. Total accident.

Thanks for reading, cupcakes! Oh, and DFTBA!


	4. Chapter 4: The Brother Holmes

Mycroft steals glances at Sherlock and John, a gleam in his eye. "Oh, I interrupted something." **_Yes, thanks to God_**. "No, you didn't." Sherlock mutters, deadpanned. "It wasn't a question, Sherlock." Mycroft makes his way over to the mantel, making an exasperated face when his spots the skull.

Sherlock is at an impasse. Grateful for being saved from having to admit anything to Watson and pissed at Mycroft for coexisting on the same planet. "Can you not get one of your government pets to do it?" Mycroft's brow twitches half an inch before he regaining full composure. **_Mycroft, my you're getting slow_**. Sherlock smirks. "Dear brother, do act your age. I wouldn't be here if it was not important." Mycroft utters with a stale expression. "This better be at least an eight." Sherlock warns before walking over and flopping into his designated arm chairs. Mycroft rolls his eyes, wondering why it was he who is has to be stuck with _him _as a brother.

"We have reason to believe that one of our own is about to, if not already, betray our country. This task requires more… leg work, so to speak." Sherlock remains still like a statue. John shakes his head, slightly amused by the brothers Holmes. "Don't behave like this now. Our national security may be at stake." Sherlock nods and leans back further into the chair. "As opposed to last month or 5months before that?" Mycroft stiffens and clenches the handle of his umbrella. "Only twice in the past year, isn't that often, Sherlock." Sherlock's eyebrows rise with a small mischiefs grin. "This being the third, I'd say it's pushing it."

John's eyes widen, you can only push the "Ice Man" so far. Sherlock knows his brother's limits, so why toy with them until he's on edge? "Sherlock, this is not an optional assignment. Get this done; both the American _and_ the British government would be in your debt." This triggered a spark of curiosity in Sherlock. "I've left the details here for you." Mycroft leaves no room for argument. As he exits the door, he turns quickly. "Good day, Sherlock. John." He nods and gives Sherlock a look that John hasn't seen before. Obviously, Sherlock has though from his reaction. "Mycroft not now, in fact, not ever." And with a quick close of the door, it's over.

Sherlock turns his vision back to John. _"_We should probably get to work then." John nods with a glaring squint. "Sherlock, after this case, we're finishing that talk." Sherlock swallows nervously, heading over to the mantel where Mycroft left a manila folder of the case details. "Of course, John, why wouldn't we." **_This better be quite the case_**.

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Thank you SOOO MUCH for reading! I hope you like it! Don't be afraid to comment! You guys are Awesome! Much love. ;D


	5. Chapter 5: That Voice and Those Eyes

**_This better be quite the case_****.**

"Leighton Wrights, a retired corporal of the navy. Mycroft believe this man is going to cross his country after he's fought for it?" John inquired. His face warped with strong disgust as he adjusts himself in the backseat of the cab. "It's not uncommon, John. Though, I can see where you'd be bias." Sherlock scans over the golden haired man; John feels as though he's being read like a book. A shutter creeps down his spine with the thought and he has to inhale to ease the rush.

"You never said where we were going." John peers out the window for any indication of what street they're on. Sherlock leans his head back and closes his eyes. "We're going to a place." "Which place?" "A place important to this case. Now, shut up." He murmurs and John obliges him. It was nice to be out of the flat anyway. John follows Sherlock's example and relaxes himself with shut eyes. Listening to the flow of running motor and honking horns that all, somehow, go together in harmony until he falls asleep.

"John," Sherlock calls in his deep eerie voice, dragging out John's one syllable name. The irresistible tone lulls John back into a light sleep, feeling quite comfortable. "John, we're here." The short blond, pries his eyes open, takes in his surroundings, and begins to let everything register. "I tried to be polite. John, get off of me." John pushes himself off of his side to sit up right, now realizing that he was leaning pressed into Sherlock's chest for support. Yawning, John follows Sherlock out of the cab. "Now will you tell me where we are?" Sherlock gives John a trivial look that reads as _'__**Observe, John. Observe**__.' _With John's blank expression; Sherlock gives up and informs him th Eat they are at Leighton's house. "That's a bad idea, Sherlock." John shakes his head, quickening his pace to match Sherlock's long stride. "Why I didn't tell you until we were here." Sherlock smirks slightly.

"Do you even have plan? Or are we just going to run into a former navy's home and just hope for the best?" Sherlock stops in the middle of the street and locks eyes with John. Watching every detail in his blue orbs, shimmering with grey rimmed pupils, was other worldly.

Sherlock sees John's pupils dilate and, with a vague curiosity, wonders where John's extraordinary mind is at. Then without warning, Sherlock spins around and continues forward toward the door. _**Sherlock, the things I do for you**__._ John sighs, a smile ghosting across his face.

John follows behind Sherlock, frustrated and infatuated with the world's only consulting detective.

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Annnnnnd chapter tres! Hope you liked it! Comment! Love ya'll! Oh and the chapters will probably get longer. (Sorry, for those who like the shortness of the chapters.)

P.s: Sorry there was this one line that bothered me so I took it down and fixed it.


	6. Chapter 6: Progress

John follows behind Sherlock, frustrated and infatuated with the world's only consulting detective.

An hour or two would have been acceptable. But _three?_ All because John had mentioned that he was in the military as well. Sherlock groaned, loudly. Pacing the bulky man's living room, his patients wearing thin. John, though a man with the love of storytelling, couldn't disagree. Leighton continues to talk in a flat tone that couldn't help but strike a nerve with Sherlock. _The house, __**I need to explore the house**__._ Sherlock glances at the hallway just to his left. "I don't mean to be rude," John highly doubts this is true. "But my I use your restroom?" Sherlock arches his brows. Leighton pauses, looking over Sherlock with suspicion. "Yeah, it's down the hall, third door on your right." Sherlock nods, glad to be out of the room. If he had to hear him speak for another 10minutes, Leighton would have most definitely disappeared. _At least Mycroft's problem would be solved._ Sherlock thinks humorously, a faint grin spreading.

Down the narrow hall, Sherlock stops to observe the pictures hanging over a small table. Most of the pictures are of one woman in some variation. She seemed fragile and pale compared to the navy corporal. _**His girlfriend obviously**__. _Sherlock dismisses this information and this person as of no importance to this case. He travels farther down the hall, spotting Leighton's office. Sherlock glance back down the hall to see if Mr. Wright was still speaking. And of course, he was. Sherlock swiftly and quietly made his way into the room, closing it behind him. He was sifting through papers that were splayed out near Leighton's computer his phone dings with the following message:

**2:33pm, Wednesday, April 17:**

** Any progress?**

** - MH**

Sherlock rolls his eyes at the message. Must he really contact him? Sherlock specifically told Mycroft that he would contact _him_ once the case was done. Rapidly, he stabbed at the keys on his phone to reply:

**2:34pm, Wednesday, April 17:**

**It's been a day since you handed me the case.**

** - SH**

Sherlock continues to shuffle through papers, muttering to himself about what it would be like to be an only child. He begins to examine a file box and accidently elbows the mouse of the computer. The monitor lights up with ferociously bright colors, Sherlock then catches sight of it from his peripheral and turns to face the screen. The screen filled with a digital document that carried the U.S presidential seal on top. Sherlock pulls his phone from his pocket and types a second message to Mycroft.

**2:37pm, Wednesday, April 17:**

**Of course, progress has been made.**

** - SH**

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**Hello there! Hope you enjoyed! Don't be afraid to comment! Love you all!**

**P.s: I just wanted to say something about the upcoming chapter: Shiznet. Is. About. To. Go. Down! :O ... (stay tuned!)**

** ~ Danni**


	7. Chapter 7: Skimming Lines

**Of course, progress has been made.**

** - SH**

Suddenly, the noise from the other room stops. **_Stall him, John._**Sherlock tries to defy logic, hoping it'll reach John's simple mind. Sherlock takes a picture of the screen and shoves his phone into his coat pocket. He quickly exits the room and enters the room across the hall from the office. "He's been in there for quite a while." Leighton says darkly. John doesn't respond but simply hopes that whatever Sherlock is _really_ doing, gets done very soon.

Just as the two approach the hall, they hear faucet water running and Sherlock leaving the bathroom not long after. Leighton looks Sherlock up and down. John discreetly gives Leighton a dirty glare. **_Jealousy doesn't suit you, John._** Sherlock observes with an impassive attitude. "Everything alright?" Leighton inquires with narrow eyes, tightly balled fists, and flexing muscles. "Yes," Was the only response Leighton received.

"You sure, seems like you were in a hurry to leave my office?" John peers over Leighton's broad shoulder to see. The door was cracked open and the bright light of a computer shun through. **_Dammit, Sherlock._** John groans silently. Thirty excuses slammed to the forefront of Sherlock's mind before he could even finish. "You sound quite pissed for someone who has nothing to hide." Sherlock's indifferent tone made Mr. Wright turn a matte red from his neck all the way up to his shaved head. John's eyes run between Sherlock's still position and Leighton's boiling angry. There's no way to diffuse the tension, no way to stop the inevitable brawl. **_Son of a bitch. _**John's adrenaline begins to rush, his heart pumping into his ear drums and he coils into a defensive stance behind Leighton.

The moment happens all too fast as Leighton brings his arm to swing at Sherlock, barely missing detective. John brings the naval man into a guillotine head lock to which Leighton rams himself and John into the wall, knocking John down. The blows knocks the wind out of him, he lies there for a minute watching the scene unfold around him. Leighton picks up a lamp on the in table and breaks the glass bottom, so that it's sharp and rigid on the end. He thrusts it at Sherlock but misses as Sherlock strikes a remarkably strong blow to Leighton's stomach. Leighton stumbles but quickly recovers and runs toward Sherlock, slicing at his waist and he drops. Again he cuts Sherlock, on his arm this time.

**_Sherlock, help Sherlock, save Sherlock._**Are John's only thought as he struggles to his feet and stands up straight. John stealthily gets behind Leighton and elbows his back. Leighton fumbles forward. "You navy men never did put in much work." John spits. John disagrees with this statement, all military men put in great effort, but he said it just to spite Leighton. And it works incredibly well as Leighton turns on John instead; screaming, "You bastard!" Sherlock's breathing labors, the wounds are pretty deep, and he lifts his head to see what's going on. In Sherlock's eyes the fight between the two men looks like something out of a Dragon Ball Z episode. Finally, Leighton thrashes John with the lamp in his firm grip. An ungodly stillness falls upon John. And everything runs black.

**_ What in the hell is that beeping?_**John gripes. The high pitched beep continues and an add sound of a pump continue on in an annoying symphony. He stirs a little when a stabbing pain spreads through his stomach like hot liquid metal. John was conscious but unable to move because of the pain. **'****_You know my methods John. Deduce_****.'** Sherlock's voice says in his mind. John stops moving. It smells like bleach and sanitizer. From what he can tell there are multiple people walking and talking. John rubs his fingertips and feels some sort of thick fabric. A hospital is his guess.

"He's on heavy pain killers, so he'll incoherent for a while. He's lucky to have you, you know, had he not gotten here within the next 5minutes he could have bled to death." Says a woman; her voice foreign to John. "Right, thank you." Ah, the replier's voice is all too recognizable and, if he could, John would smile. Sherlock. He walks mutely into the room. John forces his eyelids apart. Squinting at the florescent lights, he thinks, yeah it's a hospital. John blinks his blurry eyes. "Sherl-" John means to finish his name but for some reason fall short. _He's on heavy pain killers._ The sentence resonates with him. Sherlock turns to see John, glassy eyed and bumbling. "Thank god you're okay." Sherlock speaks, more to himself than John. "Sherlock, I'm thirst." **_Thirsty_****. **John corrects himself mentally. He hated this, being conscious but sounding like a damn fool.

Sherlock reacted accordingly, striding over to the end of the bedding where a meal and drink was set for him, the nurses assumed that after six hours the man would be hungry, **_John would have never thought so stupidly._**Once the icy water grazes John's lips, he guzzles it without hesitation. John's eyes feel strangely weighted suddenly. He's skimming the line between sleep and awareness. "John, I thought I lost you today." Sherlock's deep voice penetrates the impending slumber. John can't reply as he's trying to focus on staying awake. **_Keep talking Sherlock._** John pleads.

"You're an idiot, who charges at a man hold a weapon for Crist's sake?" Sherlock huffs, staring at John lying in the bed with no intention of getting up to tell him to shut up and that he'll be fine. "You're alive, high on pills, but none the less alive. That's what's important at this moment." Sherlock, hesitantly, steps closer to his bed and carefully places a hand on top of John's. It's searing hot against John's skin.

"Remember that talk you said we had to finish?" Sherlock sniffs a little. **_Don't you dare lose hold of yourself. _**Sherlock sternly warns himself. "Well, I should finish what I was saying." John means to agree but it only translates into noises. Sherlock chuckles slightly then takes a deep breath. "I'd be lost without my blogger." Sherlock admits. John uses this as confirmation that the pills have kicked in unaware that's entirely what Sherlock meant to say. Sherlock gazed at John thoughtfully; John had always been handsome, charming, and his features quirkily glorious. Sherlock can't help but focus on John's lush pink mouth. Sherlock leans in so close to John that even the slightest movement from John and their lips would collide.

"I think I might love you." Sherlock whispers. More to himself than John.

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**Oh my, oh my! I was gonna wait but I couldn't help myself. I was so excited about what happens next a had to post it. **

**Hope you enjoyed it! Don't be afraid to comment! Love ya!**

**~ Danni**


	8. Chapter 8: Unrequited Isnt Cutting

**"I think I might love you." Sherlock whispers. More to himself than John.**

John's eyes fluttered for a moment before his eyelids sank, he mumbles something incoherent to himself yet understood by Sherlock , and he's sent into a deep stillness. The warm air of Sherlock's breath brushes against John's peacefully sleeping features. "I'm inclined to kiss you."Sherlock states freely, his words barely audible to the doctor that lie before him. Sherlock wishes he had could say these things to a more conscious and alert John. Unrequited love just isn't cutting it anymore.

Sherlock nudges John's lips with his own, ever so slightly, almost ghost like. A sensation creeps down John's spine. This time with a little more courage, he grazes John's plush lips with a little more force in; every last shiver being worth it. Finally, Sherlock had mustered enough confidence to lay his lips firmly on John's.

Sherlock wonders what the outcome would be if he did confess to John. **_I could lose my only friend, _**the glaring thought at the forefront of his mind. No, John's far to loyal to abandon Sherlock even after but the dynamic would never be the same. **_Come one, it shouldn't be this hard. Either tell him or don't._** Sherlock frowns, he shouldn't risk it, it's not worth loosing the only person who's every mattered. In a fit of confused rage, Sherlock springs up from his seat infront of John and storms out of the room, ignoring the nurses in the hall. He needed time to think.

An agony arises in John's midsection. It's enough to pull him out of his pressure building against his abdominal muscles, feeling as though his stomach would at any moment burst. He grunts, sitting up in the bed. "Sherlock!" He grumbles.

The Monitor starts to bleep faster and more high pitched and the pumping of tubes grows in sound as his pain worsens. A small staff of two nurses jog into the room. "Be calm, Dr. Watson, The pain killers are wearing off. That's all." **_The bloody hell do you mean "that's all"? It's causing me pain, Idiot. _**John has spent to much time with his beloved detective. If John wasn't desparately trying to cry, he would have laughed instead, speaking of which, "Where is Sherlock?" His question went unnoticed.

"Let me just get you a glass of water and so you can swallow these." More than anything, John hated the languid pace at which the nurses moved. "No," John hisses between breaths and the nurse stops to look at him. "No more pain killers." John spat, not meaning to sound rude but meant to get his point across. "Dr. Watson, you'll be in a great deal of pain if you don't." **_Really? I would have never guessed. _**John immeaditly feels bad, even if it was just a thought. "None." He huffs, trying to remember the relaxing mantra; _Breath in through the mouth, exhale through the nose._ As he repeats it, for several minutes, the searing sting in his stomach begins to muffle. The monitor fall back to a normal pattern and the pumps follow his breathing rhythm.

The nurses give an bewildered look at the young blond doctor. _How often did a __patient, by pure will, pull something like that off? _

Unbeknownst to them, Sherlock stood in the door way. Watching in awe of John. **_No pain killers._** It repeats itself in Sherlock's mind as he waites for the nurses to leave. He wanted as few people as possible to be present in the room.

When the two nurses stride out of the room, Sherlock enters and makes a direct path for John's bed. "There you are, I've-" "I'm aware." Sherlock says, cutting John off. John glance at Sherlock's disgruntled face. "Sherlock, is every-" "Yes and no." He slowly nods, unsure of which of Sherlock's mood swings this could be. The onyx haired man is pacing the edge of the bed like a mad man. "Why don't you just tell-" "I'm getting there, John."

Finally, Sherlock stops and turns to face John. Gripping the bed post until his knuckles turned a ghostly shade of white. John opens his mouth but thinks better of it. "I despise what you do to me," Sherlock begin. John's heart shatters with this; he must have said something to Sherlock while he was drugged and Sherlock wants to break off their friendship. **_God no, don't let it be that. Anything but that,_** John begs.

"Fuck," He mutters. On a rare occasion does Sherlock utter this word and so, convinces John of the inevitable heart break. John begins to well up, looking down to avoid eye contact. Sherlock observes this, carefully sitting on the bed next to him. "John, I like you." John rips his gaze from the ground to meet Sherlock's calming gaze. "Yeah, I like you too, your my best friend." **_Leave it to John to misinterpret this, of all things._**

"No, you're not getting it. I like you... in a romantic sense." Sherlock admits. Quietness filling the roomn as John stares at the blue eye'd man.

**_... Oh._**

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**Hello again! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! Don't be afraid to comment.**

**I was suprised myself at how this chapter ended and wonder what's to come of Sherlock's confession. (the outcome may ****_not_**** be as clear as we probably think.)**

**Let's all wish Sherlock and John luck on this one!**

**~ Danni**


	9. Chapter 9: The Pretty Pair

Sherlock waits a second longer before he says, "This was a bad idea, wasn't it?" He leans off the bed to give John his space, Sherlock slides on to the small couch that was in the corner of the room. Moving the pillows and folded blanket onto the other half he wasn't using. Also another assumption from the nurses that thought he was exhausted and should gets some sleep.

It stays this way for a matter of minutes. "Sherlock, please." He pats the space next to himself on his bed. Sherlock drag his body over to where John is. A deep disappointment spreads through his being. When Sherlock settles in, John stares stares at him for a moment. "Before I-" John stops, grumbling to himself, intensly watching Sherlocks mouth. Probably the only time any shade of pink has been a desirable color. "I just need to..."

John grunts, agrivated by his lack of speech. Instead of fumbling around with words some more; John reaches out for Sherlocks shirt, clutching the thin material in his palm, and tugs Sherlock forward. **_Finally._** John smiles against Sherlock's lips.

By no means was it the perfect kiss like you'd see in a cinema or on a stage. No, their teeth clattered every so often and their noses bumped. But it was still electric and tantalizingly warm. In the most awkwardly perfect euphoria.

"Sherlock," Breathe. "Hmm?" Sherlock hums against his lips, leaning in farther, licking John's low lip, John blinks with pure shock; **_by far more talent with his delicate mouth than led to believe._**"What happened," Breathe. "With Leighton?" John asks. They continue to kiss as Sherlock answers. "Let's see, what _did_ happen?" Sherlock does a trick with his tongue that even John, who's had quite a few dates in his life, hadn't acquired in his arsenal.

"Well, firstly, he tripped over his own feet and busted his chin. Then he fell down his two flights of stairs. Quite a clumsy fellow." The implications there but neither acknowledge the underlying story. "Quite." John smiles again.

As the pair lean in to kiss again, a murderous soudtrack begins to play. "Damn you, Mycroft." Sherlock mutters. He opens the text message:

4:49am, Friday, April 19:

John's to be checked out later tonight. Don't forget you have a case to close.

Oh and congradulations, Sherly.

- MH

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**Ahhhhh! Yay, I'm so happy for the two! Let's hope they can keep it up! Cause only god knows with case! :O**

**Hope you enjoyed! Don't be afraid to comment! Love ya!**

** ~ Danni**


	10. Chapter 10: Epilouge

**Epilouge:**

John sets his keys down along with the chinese takeout on the coffee table, wary from a day's work. "Sherlo-" John is viciously thrusted against the wall; in shock he's unable to defend himself. Slender fingers travel into his jacket and roams the plains of his upper body.

Sherlock goes into kiss John but it's block once the golden haired man regains composure. "Sherlock, the hell is wrong with you? I just walked in." Sherlock huffs, pulling away from John before he becomes tempered. "I'm outrageously bored, John!" He grins, amused by Sherlock's always dramatic moods "Why do you assume that _everytime_ you're bored, we'll have sex?" John inquires, pulling the containers from the box. "Because it has worked _everytime_ that I've tried." Sherlock winks; heat filling John's cheeks like magma.

"Don't you have a case summary to go over with Mycroft?" John reminds Sherlock. "Already met with _the_ british government and it _was_ the girlfriend after all. Anyway, he tried to have me knighted... again." Sherlock rolled his eyes, slightly irritated at John for killing the mood with mention of his brother but hesitates to mention this next part.

"I might have to go way to France for a week or so, Scotland yard is out of their depths. I checked to see if you could come but your schedule is packed." There was the damn silence that Sherlock wanted to avoid. They had been inseparable since that day in the hospital and, to add on, Sherlock left John once already. And almost never came back.

"Oh, uh, yeah. No problem." John coughs outs; he's never been a good actor. Sherlock can read the heartbreaking expression John so badly wants to hide. In a few graceful strides and Sherlock is infront of John, grabbing him lightly so to get his attention.

"You know I wouldn't do that to you. Not again." John smiles, reassured. He could trust Sherlock. John watches Sherlock's features for any type of deception. None was found. "Yeah, I know. I love you." John says casually, turning to the food again.

"Of course." In consulting detective speak this translates as; I love you too.

* * *

**Alas, a wonderfully happy ending to the ending. I hope you enjoyed this small story in it's entirety. Please feel free to comment with ideas you might have for my next Sherlockian adventures or with critiques or whatever.**

**I hope to hear from you all next story!**

**Infinitely yours,**

**_Danni_**


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